The Art of Ritual: Why We Need to Romanticize Our Everyday Lives

In the timeless tale of The Little Prince, the young traveler tames a fox. On the second day of their friendship, when the Prince returns to visit, the fox shares a profound secret.

“It would have been better to come back at the same hour,” said the fox. “If you come at four o’clock in the afternoon, then at three o’clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o’clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you... One must observe the proper rites.”

“What is a rite?” asked the little prince.

“Those also are actions too often neglected,” said the fox. “They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours.”

The Trap of the Mundane

For many of us, life has become a series of repetitive, colorless actions. We wake up, rush through a mediocre breakfast, and dash to work. We return home exhausted, order takeout, and leave clothes scattered across chairs because we’re "too tired" to tidy up. Weekends are spent in a daze—no makeup, unwashed hair, simply existing within four walls. We toil for the sake of survival, forgetting that there is a vast difference between surviving and living.

We often talk about "poetry and the distant lands," yet we ignore the beauty right in front of us. Ancient cultures understood this better than we do; they would bathe in incense, play the lute, and admire chrysanthemums. These weren't just hobbies; they were rituals—acts of deep love for life itself.

Ritual is not about being pretentious or "extra." It is about self-love, self-respect, and the conscious decision to find joy in the ordinary.

The Manager’s Red Lipstick

When I lived in the United States, my manager—a grandmother with two adorable grandsons—taught me a lesson I will never forget.

In her office sat an exquisite afternoon tea set. Every day, she brought treats to the office. Around 3:00 PM, she would brew a pot of black tea, pour milk into a small pitcher, and arrange sugar and pastries on delicate porcelain plates. She would then invite us in to discuss work over tea.

Despite her age, her appearance was always impeccable: refined makeup, vibrant red lipstick, and elegant dresses paired with cardigans or blazers. She couldn't wear high heels due to joint pain, but she once told me, "If my legs allowed it, I’d wear heels every single day. They make the dresses look so much better."

One morning, I arrived at work looking disheveled because I had overslept. Seeing my state, she pulled me aside and told me to go to the restroom to "fix myself" before starting work.

I was confused. "I’m just sitting in front of a computer all day," I argued. "No one cares what I look like."

She looked at me and said, "You spend eight hours a day at work. That is for your survival. But making yourself beautiful for those eight hours? That is for your life. You choose how you want to live: as someone grey and tired in front of a screen, or as someone confident and vibrant. It’s your choice."

From that day on, no matter how tired I was, I made sure to start my day with a sense of ceremony.

Ritual as a Milestone

We often use rituals to mark the most significant transitions of our lives.

The chaotic preparation for a wedding is a way of solemnly declaring the start of a lifelong commitment. Tearing up old love letters or clearing out an ex’s belongings is a ritual of closure, allowing us to start anew. Taking our parents out for a grand dinner with our first paycheck is a way of saying, "I’ve grown up; I can take care of you now."

In these moments, ritual acts like a stage curtain. As it pulls back, it signals to our psyche: I am ready. I have dressed for the occasion. I am stepping into a new chapter. It helps us anchor our memories in the sea of time.

The Thanksgiving Table

I once attended a Thanksgiving dinner at a friend’s home. In the U.S., this is a day of immense significance, much like the Mid-Autumn Festival in Eastern cultures.

The table was a masterpiece: matching fine china, wicker baskets filled with dried flowers and mini pumpkins, tall white candles, and napkins folded into intricate shapes. The turkey was stuffed with care, and the air smelled of homemade pumpkin pie and apple tarts.

Even the children were part of the rite—a little girl in an "Elsa" dress and a young boy in a tiny bowtie. The family wasn't "dressed up" in the formal sense, but they were polished and intentional. The ritual of that meal transformed a simple dinner into a celebration of kinship.

How to Build Your Own Rituals

Incorporating ritual into your life doesn't require a Hollywood budget or an Audrey Hepburn wardrobe. You don't need to be standing in front of Tiffany’s with a croissant to feel special.

You can start small:

• Morning Clarity: Wake up fifteen minutes earlier to hand-grind coffee and enjoy the silence before the world wakes up.
• Dining with Intent: Even if it’s just takeout, put it on a beautiful plate. Pour your wine into a proper glass. Light a candle.
• Floral Therapy: On your way home from the grocery store, buy a bouquet of fresh flowers for your entryway.
• Curating Your Space: Toss out the faded, ill-fitting clothes in your closet. Choose one afternoon to buy something that makes you feel powerful.
• The Power of Paper: Buy a beautiful journal and a high-quality pen. Spend five minutes every night recording one moment of gratitude.
• Mark the Calendar: Don’t let anniversaries or birthdays pass unnoticed. Dress up, go to a concert, or simply take a long walk in a place you’ve never been.

Life is a winding road, often filled with dust and thorns. Rituals are the flowers we plant along the path and the lamps we hang to light the way. While these "decorations" might not change the final destination, they change the journey. They ensure that we walk with a light heart, surrounded by beauty, rather than merely trudging through the dark.